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Comfort Zone Absent by Clare Fisher Psychotherapist
- empowerholistic
- May 9
- 2 min read
People often talk about being outside their comfort zone, and I often wonder—what zone are they really referring to? I imagine they mean a space that’s unknown, unfamiliar, beyond their skill set, outside their knowledge base, or even stretching past their physical capacity.
It’s a zone where they might feel judged, unworthy, lacking in confidence, and burdened by low self-esteem.
It’s a place where support feels absent, recognition is rare, and loneliness is tangible.
Being 'comfort zone absent' feels like a typical Tuesday. I rarely feel at ease—in my mind, in my body, or in my soul. I suppose I’ve never really felt comfortable within the constructs of this world—grappling with sensory overload, chronic physical pain, and more.
But perhaps the one good thing about always being comfort zone absent is this: it doesn’t limit me. When you have no baseline for what comfort feels like, being outside of it loses its power. Its supposed unfamiliarity becomes my normal, and that normalness enables me to do the not-so-normal hard things.
Last year, I decided to work as an extra and landed a role in The Bombing of Pan Am 103, a soon-to-be-released BBC drama that will also air on Netflix.
I had to give my full body measurements, list my skills, and submit photos from every unflattering angle. I travelled twice to locations hours from home. I had fittings where stylists touched my hair, makeup artists brushed my face, and dressers saw me in my granny pants underwear. I was photographed from all sides and asked to parade up and down a warehouse catwalk. Later, I had to find the set, go through the whole hair and makeup routine again, keep everything confidential, wear uncomfortable heels, and look like Hyacinth Bucket.
I couldn’t eat the food provided. I had to mingle with the crew and other extras and be stared at by the public—until they realised I wasn’t Patrick J. Adams. Then I spent hours trying not to make a sound, repeating the same actions over and over again without dropping a champagne flute.
As I said, almost a typical Tuesday for me when it comes to being comfort zone absent. And oddly enough, that absence has shaped me. It’s where I’ve learned to adapt, to endure, to improvise. It’s where I’ve found flow, laughter, strength, and a weird kind of belonging.
Maybe I wasn’t made to live inside a comfort zone. Maybe I was made to grow in its absence.
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